


if music be the food of love

by Anielka



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: 5+1 Things, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Not a songfic but almost, Peter Nureyev POV, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 19:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16646627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anielka/pseuds/Anielka
Summary: Five times Peter sang, and one time Juno did."It wasn’t the harsh remixes and mashups that were played in the bars in Mars, or the mixtures of languages from all around the Universe, or the funky, non-sensical music from the Outer Rim, oh no. What Peter Nureyev liked, much to Juno’s dismay, was 20th and 21st century Earth music.And that meant catchy tunes, all day long."





	if music be the food of love

**Author's Note:**

> THIS PODCAST SAVED MY LIFE  
> But it's too much aaaanggssstttt, it hurts!   
> So, I decided to follow my unhealthy obsession with songfics and make one for the boys :')  
> That, and I needed to justify for myself the place of Boogie Wonderland in my Jupeter playlist. I strongly suggest you listen to Native's cover of the song because that's the one I based the fic in. The link of the songs will be at the bottom!  
> This isn't beta'd!  
> Enjoy!

 

1.

Being Peter Nureyev was proving to be one of the most wonderful and thrilling adventures in Peter’s life. Not that being Duke Rose, or Rex Glass, or Jayce O’rionnis, or Caprice Santana, or any of those hadn’t been an adventure of their own, but as Peter Nureyev, there were no rules. There was no one to impress, no hidden agendas, no mysteries aside from discovering how did he like his coffee. Just the wonderful learning of favorites: favorite food (apricots), favorite clothes (that really comfy shirt that once belonged to Juno but now they’d both accepted was now Peter’s); re-discovering himself was turning out to be the greatest time of his life, as he realized being Peter Nureyev meant freedom and free will, and doing things because he liked doing them, and, boy, Peter Nureyev liked a lot of things.   
He liked watching rom-coms with twists, he liked sleeping in until midday, he liked using soft colors in his make-up, he liked singing.   
The last one hadn’t been that much of a surprise, actually. As a naturally expressive and dramatic person, singing was a positive, non-harmful way of communicating his feelings. What was surprising was what he liked singing.   
It wasn’t the harsh remixes and mashups that were played in the bars in Mars, or the mixtures of languages from all around the Universe, or the funky, non-sensical music from the Outer Rim, oh no. What Peter Nureyev liked, much to Juno’s dismay, was 20th and 21st century Earth music.  
And that meant catchy tunes, all day long.   
Juno had long given up his efforts to stop him, but he still gave him suffering looks every time he started. Juno said it was because they were annoying, but Peter was pretty sure it was because they got stuck in his head, and, even if his wonderful detective was a talented lady, he refused to show Peter if singing was part of those talents.   
“I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want! So, tell me what you want, what you really, really want. I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really, really, really wanna a zig-a-zig, ha!”   
“Not again…” Juno mumbled from his reading spot on the couch. “Do you have to sing while you do the dishes?”   
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. I-do-monologues-while-I-investigate, am I distracting you from your article on interstellar silver trade?”  
Juno huffed, and Peter smiled lovingly at him, even he didn’t see it.  
“If you want my future, forget my past. If you wanna get with me, better make it fast. Now don't go wasting my precious time! Get your act together, we could be just fine.”

  
2.

  
Taking Juno on heists was one of Peter’s greatest pleasures.   
There was something addictive in knowing Juno had his back, no matter how bad things got. It was just like reliving their first meeting, both flying blind and fearing the fall, but still willing to trust the other and risk it all.   
What a night, that one.  
It was also one of the few times Juno would let him choose what he would wear, and Peter loved the picture of his detective, panting and grinning after a chase, eyes lit ablaze, wearing a floor-length dress, knowing that Juno was wearing nothing else on him but blood red lipstick and his gun.   
What could he say? He was a weak man.  
And Juno always looked great in heels.   
This particular scene was a robbery. A sneak-in to a fancy party, mingling with Venus’ highest while they visited the showing of some very beautiful, very rare diamonds.   
The very same diamonds Peter was getting out of the safe while Juno kept a lookout.   
Peter finished saving the bags of precious cargo into his coat and began walking back to Juno. They still had all night to enjoy the party, have some drinks, and pretend they were shocked at the disappearance of what they came to see.   
“All done, dear detective.”   
Juno huffed as he dropped his fighting stance.  
“Took you long enough. Looks like you’re getting rusty on your thief skills.”   
“Am I? Oh, Juno, you know I wouldn’t have let anyone catch us. We’re perfectly on schedule.”  
Peter smiled. Every day he spent with Juno taught him how to read the detective’s words better. While harsh, Juno’s intentions were rarely ever to be rude, he just had difficulties at letting go of the devil-may-care façade.  
“You think highly of yourself, don’t you?” Juno snorted, but Peter could hear the relief in his voice. Silly detective, acting like Peter hadn’t been extra careful preparing each and every step they followed.   
As they neared the multitude again, Juno inched himself closer to Peter, and Peter linked their arms, pressing them together. He began humming softly.  
“What are you mumbling there, Mr. Lonsdale?” Juno asked with that night’s alias. Peter smiled mischievously.  
“Bitch better have my money! Y'all should know me well enough. Bitch better have my money! Please don't call me on my bluff. Pay me what you owe me. Balling bigger than LeBron.” Juno chocked trying to hide a burst of laughter.   
“Who the fuck is LeBron?” He asked hiding his smile in the folds of Peter’s sleeve.  
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Peter whispered, leaning in and smiling.   
They were the perfect picture of married high society, all fancy clothes, condescending looks, and private little conversations. But Peter knew what made them better than those marriages: it was the fact that, if push came to shove, they would stay together and come out victorious. And that was worth more than all the diamonds in the universe.

  
3.

  
The party was almost done.   
People were drunk enough that most of the couples had gone home or were having too much fun in the dance floor, incidentally, the place Peter was guiding Juno to.   
“What are you doing?”  
“Oh, please, darling, you know how much I love dancing.” Peter smiled at Juno and pressed against him, the textbook posture for a slow dance. “And I know for a fact you’re a marvelous dancer, detective.” He whispered in his ear.  
“Just because I used to do it doesn’t mean I’m still decent at it.”  
“Decent, he says.” Peter wrinkled his nose. “You sell yourself short, dear. But please, don’t distract me from my evil end, may we dance once tonight, before we go home?” Peter did his best to appear like the ‘homme fatale’, the seducer, Juno insisted he was, though, Peter thought, there was hardly a more innocent temptation than a slow dance with one’s lover.   
Juno looked away from him and pouted, probably without knowing what he was doing.   
“The music is not right.” He mumbled, and Peter felt his throat tighten. Juno was too adorable like this.  
“Guess we’ll need to make our own, then.”  
Juno looked like he was going to protest when Peter drew him even nearer than before.  
“Warn a lady.” He complained against Peter’s coat. Peter grinned and lowered his mouth until it was next to Juno’s ear. He wanted no one else to listen to this.  
“Ready, dear?”  
“Get on with it.”  
Peter began dancing before singing; he led the detective in a ‘1-2-3’ waltz tempo and sang accordingly.  
“Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars, let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.” Neither of them was guiding. The followed their own rhythm, not caring of any complicated step sequences; simply flowing and sliding in the floor. “In other words, hold my hand.” Juno’s hand tightened around his. “In other words, baby, kiss me.” Juno’s face pressed against his, his warm breath sending shivers through his neck. “Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore.”   
Juno did sell himself short: he was a wonderful dancer. Peter could master the steps and play pretend, but it was Juno who gave them strength and certainty. Their steps with their music, creating a little private world for just the two of them for a little while.   
A little world with no evil, no responsibilities, no jobs. No heartbreak or regrets. No guilt. Just for some minutes, it was just Juno and Peter, dancing to a centuries-old song sung in whispers.   
“In other words, please be true. In other words, I love you.”   
Of course, little private worlds had to end sometime.  
As soon as Peter finished the song, Juno ended the dance. He stayed still, not moving his face away from Peter’s, just catching his breath.   
Then he stepped back, a heavy blush darkening his beautiful skin.   
“Let’s go home.”   
“Let’s go.” Peter conceded.

  
4\. 

“I thought you were invincible.”  
“Juno.”  
“No, really. Gunshots? No problem. Spinning blades? He isn’t even worried.”  
“Juno, please.”  
“Even goddamn electric shots, remember? ‘It’s alright Juno, you rest all you want while I’m being electrocuted.” Juno made a really bad impression of his accent. “But what sends Peter Nureyev, the greatest thief in the galaxy, running back to bed for a full day?”  
“Juno-“  
“A cold.”  
“Juno, dear, please be nice.”  
“You have defeated the worst Hyperion City, hell, the worst the Universe has to offer, and yet a cold defeats you.”  
“We can’t all have an immune system that handles Mars’ extreme sessional temperature changes, dear.”  
“The window was open for thirty minutes, Nureyev, no longer. How the hell did you manage to get sick in that little time?”  
“You see, ever since I was a child-“  
“I can’t believe you have an answer for that!”  
“Juno, please don’t shout, I beg you. My head’s killing me.”  
Juno huffed and shook his head, but he lowered his voice.   
“I have to go to work.”  
“I know, it’s alright, Juno, don’t worry.” Peter insisted. “I just need to sleep it off, and I’ll be good as new by tomorrow morning.”  
“You better.”   
“I promise.”   
“Then, I’m going out.”  
“Alright, dear.”  
“Don’t move from there.”  
“Alright, dear.”  
“I’m serious.”  
“I know, dear. Send Rita my love.”  
“Yeah, sure, I will. See you.”  
“See you later, dear,” Peter called out as the door closed behind Juno. He would have liked to yell it louder, make sure he was heard over the shutting door, but his throat was killing him.  
Juno was right. It was ridiculous how a simple cold could destroy him, even if it had been that way all of his life. At least he knew how to handle it, he thought. A full day asleep would heal him and he’d be back in his feet just as quickly as he had promised.   
He looked at the clock on the wall. It read 7:27. Juno always went away way too early. Peter tried not to pout. He would have loved to have Juno fussing all over him, even though objectively he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Right now he was just grateful to have a warm place to rest, and the certainty of Juno’s return.   
He closed his eyes and snuggled in the bed. If he was going to spend the day alone, he might as well spend it recovering.

  
. . . . . . . . . 

 

Peter woke up slowly, blinking dazedly. His throat still ached, and his head hurt even more than before. Even worse, the covers were all the way on the floor.   
No wonder his arms were freezing.   
He glanced at the clock as he crawled over to recover the covers. It was almost one in the afternoon, still a long time before Juno would come back from work. He whined unhappily.   
As he settled back into bed, he noticed something different around him.   
The table beside the bed, usually devoid of, well, anything, was now stacked with thin, tiny boxes. Peter stretched his hand and took a few.  
Painkillers. Cold medicine. Analgesics; more than he would ever need in his entire life.   
And a jug filled with water, an upside-down glass beside it. And the smell, was that-  
He ventured out of bed, wrapped in one of the warmer blankets, into the kitchen. Juno’s old, forgotten slow cooker was now filled to the brim with vegetables and simmering water.   
A broth.   
Juno ‘I-go-to-work-while-bleeding’ Steel had come back home. He had gone to the store and bought medicine, and vegetables, and made enough soup to drown him.   
A pleasant buzz went through him.   
Juno taking care of him.   
This is what it felt like.   
Peter loved it.   
He waddled happily back into bed and got inside. It was only in that laydown position that he saw one more surprise. The music player, that Juno usually loathed, was sitting innocently on the bedside table. Peter reached for it.   
There was a song selected already.   
That was… something. Rita must have helped him. Juno couldn’t use a computer to save his life, much less leave a song ready. The picture of a frustrated Juno fighting with Rita, while trying not to wake Peter up warmed his heart.  
Peter pressed play and a soft voice filled the room.   
“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, brown paper packages tied up with strings, these are a few of my favorite things.”   
Peter smiled widely at the empty room before snuggling into bed, lulled by a song chosen by his lover to make him feel better.   
He couldn’t wait until Juno came home.

  
5.  
Peter was proud to say that the more time he spent with Juno, the less Juno drank out of misery. It was probably a banality, but the last months seven out of ten glasses of whiskey Juno had served had been for pseudo-dates in the apartment. It made Peter feel good, the fact that he was helping Juno, that they were good for each other.   
This night, though, this night had been even nicer. It had been planned. They weren’t drinking cheap, unbearably strong whiskey, oh no. They were drinking wine. A good, expensive, sweet wine thought specifically for enjoyment, not for being lights out by the third glass.   
So far, the conversation had been their trademark half banter, full flirting, alongside with compliments and happy details of their lives. A fluid conversation mixed with 20 questions and Peter was loving it. Juno was grinning, chuckling every other word, and overall looking very happy and healthy.   
“Tell me about your favorite heist.” Who was Peter to deny him?  
“My name was Evan Burr-Soo Way, and I was an actor.” He said, with all the fanfare he could muster. Juno laughed merrily. “It was a cover-up, so I could infiltrate the director’s house and steal some first editions of a script that was yet to be released. Of course, it went out without a fault, and I sold the script for 30,000,000 creds to a fan in Surtur, the-“  
“The moon in Saturn, yes, yes,” Juno waved his explanation away while rolling his eyes. “Why is it your favorite?”  
“Oh, because I had to participate in a play!”  
“You performed?” Juno managed not to spit his drink. “Is there a recording? Please tell me there is a recording.”  
“Sadly, no.” Peter smiled. “It is not allowed to record plays, and even if it had been recorded, it wouldn’t have been good for my anonymity to appear in a video, now, would it?”  
“I mean, yeah, but, man, I’d love to see that…” Juno trailed off then turned back to Peter with bright eyes. “Wait, wait, wait, do you still remember the songs?”  
“I guess.” Peter shrugged.   
“Then you can still sing it.”  
“For you?”  
“Yes, for me. It’s not like you’re not singing all the time, anyway.”  
“That’s true.” Peter stood up. “Very well, then. I shall play the part one more time. Pay attention, detective. It’s a one-time only experience!”  
“Yes, yes, I’m extremely lucky for this meet-and-greet, get moving!”  
Peter shed his coat and remained in his white shirt. He pushed the sleeves back a little, trying to remember all the tiny details from the play. He had loved it. He remembered thinking that, had he not been a thief, he would have liked to be an actor.   
Same difference, anyway. One involved a little more improvising than the other.   
“Let’s see, how did it go?”  
“Nureyev, come on!” Juno groaned. Peter cleared his throat and began:  
“Everything he owns is vile! Marvin doesn't care a whit, Marvin doesn't share my devotion to style.” Peter gestured at his body, all fancy clothes and a posture of easy confidence. “Men from France can cancel a debt, men in cufflinks make me forget my name…” Peter bit his lip. “I intend to upset this regrettable game.” He pointed at some imaginary figure, the memory of the other actor standing right next to him. He skipped a few verses. “Send me flowers, make them roses,” he purred. “Hang up your clothes, Marvin. Breeding shows, Marvin!” He made a big show out of nagging someone with his demands. “He was rich, I was horny! We fit like a glove!” He sang with a lovestruck expression, making a very tipsy Juno laugh unabashedly. “Passion dies! But I’d kill for that thrill of first love.”   
Juno began applauding him, and Peter threw himself at his side, smiling and giggling.  
“You must have made quite the impression in that audience,” Juno told him.  
“Maybe so, but I’m more interested in impressing the current audience.” Peter grinned when Juno blushed and looked away.   
“C’mon, detective, don’t tell me you’ve gone shy?” He teased good-naturedly. “Juno?” He called when Juno didn’t look at him.   
“Hmm?”  
“Can I kiss you?”   
Instead of answering, Juno brought their lips together.  
Nureyev got the impression the night was going to end very different than how it began, but he didn’t mind at all.

  
\+ 1  
Peter woke up to the soft rustle of clothes and opened one eye to know what was going on. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, with the light on. A smell of warm water and soap escaped the gap, meaning Juno had finished taking his morning bath and was getting ready to work.   
Peter closed his eyes and started imagining was Juno was doing. Would he smooth his hair back with gel? Would he let his loose, as Peter liked it? Would he wear the dark or the light shirt? Would he put makeup on today?   
A slight tinkling of glass confirmed the last one, and Peter smiled. He made the mental list of how Juno wore his make-up: foundation, powder, eyeliner, lipstick, and he was done. He was always done when Peter was half-way there.   
Juno was always trying to be practical with whatever he did.  
A soft sound distracted him from his sleepy thoughts.  
Juno was tapping a rhythm on the floor.   
Peter tried to hear it better, tried to guess what it was when Juno surprised him.   
Juno started singing.   
“Midnight creeps so slowly into hearts of men who need more than they get. Daylight deals a bad hand to a woman who has laid too many bets.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but in the early morning silence, it was like a shout. Who knew, out of all the songs Peter had sung, the one that stuck was Boogie Wonderland? “The mirror stares you in the face and says: Baby, uh, uh, it don't work. You say your prayers though you don't care; you dance and shake the hurt.”  
Juno’s voice wasn’t exceptionally beautiful, it was too sad for that, but Peter was falling in love all over again. The moment was so precious Peter wished it would last forever: the soft light, the warmth of the bed and the softness of the new sheets, Juno’s voice, singing of joy and hope.   
The door opened, and Juno came out of the bathroom.  
“All the love in the world can't be gone, all the need to be loved can't be wrong. All the records are playing, and my heart keeps- oh, Peter, sorry.” Juno interrupted himself. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He walked over to the bed and Peter smiled sheepishly at him.  
“I don’t mind.” He slurred. “You were singing.”  
“Ah, yes.” Juno didn’t do more than look away in mortification. Peter wasn’t meant to have heard that, but it didn’t matter anymore.  
“You’re leaving already?”   
“Yeah.”  
“M’kay.” Peter nodded as best as he could with half his face smudged into a pillow. “Juno?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I love you.”  
He could hear the smile in Juno’s voice.   
“I love you, too.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The songs I used were:
> 
> Wannabe - Spice Girls - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fw-QRyQcFH8  
> Rihanna - Bitch Better Have My Money - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYTmxRreAmw  
> annapantsu (cover) - Fly Me To The Moon - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=643mKHqdf8Q  
> annapantsu (cover) - My Favorite Things - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f96FshLZyy0  
> Falsettos - The Thrill of First Love - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47QTuq9CFkg  
> Native - Boogie Wonderland - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AnmZ3iKBs5Q
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'd love it if you shared what song(s) you have for Juno and Peter


End file.
